Warning: This article contains mentions of racism, racist violence, slavery, rape, death, gun violence, and spoilers for Lovecraft Country.

Where Lovecraft Country left us with last week’s striking first episode, our heroes found themselves harried, harangued and worse for wear, but with the ostensible aid of an unseen benefactor with ambiguous intentions. They then made their way to the sprawling mansion estate that was the last known location of Montrose, Atticus’s estranged and now missing father. Welcomed with an unusual degree of civility (and even warmth) our leads warily accepted this invitation — only to, as we soon learn, enter into yet another landscape full of threats; this time confined within four ostentatious, luxurious walls.

As “Whitey’s on the Moon” opens, two of our three protagonists seem blissfully unaware of the danger they are still in. They are enthralled by their new environs as The Jeffersons theme plays brightly over their explorations and scenes of them settling in. Uncle George and Leti enthuse over their inexplicably perfect libraries and wardrobes respectively. Tic, however, is in no such high spirits.

As he silently replays his memories from the previous night of being hounded first by the violently racist police of a sundown county, and then by the inexplicable presence of slimy, many-eyed, needle-toothed monsters; it soon becomes clear that Tic is the only one of our three leads who remembers these events.

As our three leads acclimatize, (or fail to acclimatize) to their new surroundings — which comprise, I should add, yet another series of moves through gorgeous and evocative costuming and beautiful, unsettling set design — this theme of what is real, and whether or not your memories can be trusted, comes to the foreground. We quickly learn that our new setting is, for our protagonists, hostile territory wearing a seemingly benign — and, it should be said, unnervingly Aryan — face. As a result, the question of who “owns,” dictates, and may even weaponize the widely accepted reality comes to light.

“Whitey on the Moon” continues to expertly wield its staging, soundtrack, and powerfully expressive script to engage this kind of racialized gaslighting on both a terrifyingly intimate and painfully systemic scale. The overbearing threat of the white gaze exploiting black bodies, black minds, and black trauma runs a striking current throughout this episode. Though it is indeed more than a gaze, and is instead an active and targeted mode of surveillance.

It’s quickly clear that this is a comment on news media consumption of lived experience. It is also just as much a comment on fictional media developed by white writing rooms repeatedly centering and profiting from black pain at the expense of joy, life, and community.

Indeed, this messaging is far from obscured within the text. When Tic confronts George and Leti about their seeming ignorance of the previous night’s events, George himself catches on that “We’re being watched.” He then instructs our other two protagonists to sit down, speak softly, and appear compliant. This is simply so that they won’t run up against the hard limits of what is clearly already a hollow and even menacing display of hospitality.

Further entrenching this looming threat is the convoluted, thorny, ongoing interaction between Tic and Christina Braithwhite (Abbey Lee), who we previously saw in the first episode. She appeared  initially to save our heroes from a tense, bullets-flying car chase by a group of violently racist locals. We also learn in “Whitey’s on the Moon” that she was responsible for calling off the carnivorous shoggoths just as they encircled George, Leti, and Tic outside the claustrophobic (and presumably deliberately referential) cabin in the woods.

Christina neatly ties together the smothering weight of this white surveillance with the equally suffocating pressure of a performative, and perhaps even insidious, display of would-be “allyship.” She presents herself as someone able and willing to help, perhaps even as a friend. This facade is all wrapped up in a calmly delivered “not all us white folk are out to get you” line. She goes through the motions of connecting with Tic over her own exclusion from the oppressive Order of the Dawn, as a woman.

In the same breath, we learn that Christina is the one who delivered our heroes into the waiting jaws of an ancient, secretive order of white supremacists. This Order of the Dawn is driven by the singular goal of exploiting black bodies and spirits to secure their own immortality through a return to Eden. In the same breath as Tic calls on Christina to do something, unequivocally pointing out that friendship is a matter of action and not just words, she magically restores George and Leti’s memories of the previous night. Of course, she does so only to trap Tic in his room and force him to listen helplessly to their panic as the memories flood back in.

Ultimately, even as she seems not to believe in her father Samuel (Tony Goldwyn) or what he’s trying to achieve, she promises friendship with one hand while simultaneously using Tic, Leti, and George’s minds and bodies. She uses them to try and gain respect (or access) in the violently oppressive old boys’ club that has previously excluded and harmed her. These two separate yet concurrent violations come to a head when, isolated and trapped, our leads each begin to experience respective hallucinatory visions. They begin to see things that prey on their fears, their secrets, and their traumas.

The things they have kept close to their chests, things they haven’t even been able or willing to tell each other, are dissected and spread out on display for the entertainment of Samuel, erstwhile head of the Order of the Dawn. The Order is a long-standing cult of descendants and followers of slave owner and would-be warlock Titus Braithwhite. These secrets are also laid bare for the guests invited to his lodge, who are pretty exclusively middle-aged white men. This set of sequences drives home the terror and vulnerability of our protagonists’ circumstances, in the same breath as it pulls on some hinted-at threads from the first episode regarding the characters’ histories, and their relationships to each other.

We learn of Leti’s abandonment by her late mother, and the pain she felt trying to find comfort in faith and scripture while knowing that the Christian church has been and continues to be wielded as an instrument of oppression and exclusion. We learn that Uncle George’s relationship with his brother Montrose’s wife, Dora (Erica Tazel), was not altogether one between siblings-in-law. Additionally, perhaps the biggest unspoken secret of the episode is brought to light: the fact that Tic may not be Montrose’s son.

We learn that Tic’s military service is marred by guilt, complicity or even direct involvement in acts of violence that he wants (even needs) to communicate to his loved ones but has been unable to do so. Our protagonists are bound together and divided by the secrets they keep from themselves and each other. These sequences steal from them the capacity to confront and share those secrets on their own terms, in the safety of loving and respectful relationships.

By the time they’re reunited and able to speak to each other, they no longer want to. These scenes are equal parts terrifying and heartbreaking, and though Leti’s hallucination involves the tiniest bit of clunky CGI, the messaging rings out clearly. It exemplifies the tension at the core of this family, whether biological or chosen. By clutching fast to their secrets to protect themselves from the ever-present threat of a white-approved reality that threatens their sense of self, they have been cut adrift from each other in turn.

“Whitey’s on the Moon” offers little to no time to recover though, as George and Tic are summoned to an all-male black-tie event dinner at the behest of the Order and their guests. Here, the episode’s long-simmering tension and insidious acts of violence comes to a head. George and Tic reveal their hand on what they’ve learned through the careful, constant acts of observation and perceptiveness that have clearly been a primary resource for survival.

By picking up on any and every cue around them, both subtle and less so, they’ve realized that Titus Braithwhite, forefather of the Order of the Dawn, raped and impregnated one of his slaves, Hanna (Joaquina Kalukango). It is this bloodline from which Tic is descended. This grants Tic an unforeseen degree of power in his perilous environment, as descendants of Titus Braithwhite are able to give orders to “lesser” members of the Order, which must be obeyed.

He promptly uses this new-found leverage to demand that everyone except Samuel leave the room, and then insists to be taken to his father, having deduced that the Order has been keeping Montrose imprisoned. Samuel, seemingly (albeit grudgingly) compliant, gives them leave to find Montrose at long last. However, when they do, the next layer of the trap into which they have been lured is revealed. Montrose’s letter, received by Tic in the first episode, was written under duress, and masterminded by Christina to bring our heroes to the lodge in the first place. Samuel and his brethren intend to use the reservoir of Titus Braithwhite’s power in Tic’s body to complete their ritual.

Indeed, as they attempt to flee together, Samuel and Christina catch up to them. They impede their flight by shooting Leti and George, while Christina lifts not a finger to help. So much for that allyship. Friendship requires action, indeed.

Subsequently, Tic is promised that Leti and George will be healed if he willingly participates in their ritual. We soon learn that the ritual requires the sacrifice of his blood and body to fuel its power so that the Order members can open a portal to Eden. The preparation which Tic must undergo for the ritual juxtaposes sharply evocative crucifixion imagery with Marilyn Manson’s Killing Strangers. The scene was absolutely chilling.

It’s hard to talk about this aspect of the episode without acknowledging your own religious background, so here we go. I’m pretty sure, like me, anyone raised Christian in the audience — practicing or not — felt it when the rough sponges, which might as well have been soaked in vinegar, washed the blood and dirt from Tic’s hands and skin. My goosebumps are still unreal just thinking it over again.

Indeed, this is a good time to mention that “Whitey’s on the Moon” in general is heavily laden with Biblical imagery and dialogue. It deliberately contrasts Leti’s clinging to Psalm 23 for strength and consolation with the Order of the Dawn selectively co-opting and deliberately warping interpretation of Biblical passages to suit their violently exclusionary and exploitative agenda. In a space that should be one of healing, community and peace, the white, cis, straight, and wealthy antagonists of the week utilize and bastardize the Bible for their own gain. Even worse, they do so for the purposeful exclusion and dehumanization of anyone who isn’t them.

As the ceremony itself unfolds, it continues to hold fast to Lovecraft Country’s powerful soundtrack and deeply clever sound design. The bulk of Samuel’s ritualistic chanting is drowned out by Gil Scott-Heron’s spoken word poem that also gives this episode its title. It is a no-holds-barred condemnation of the concentration of wealth and allocation of resources in ways that give no real benefit to the American citizenry. It condemns these things especially in ways that specifically and violently disadvantage black individuals and communities. Scott-Heron’s words punctuate the core thesis of this episode.

The Order of the Dawn’s aims promise no benefit for humanity at large. More than that, they are built on the suffering of the black people they consider little better than sacrificial animals. While they secure themselves in their impossibly sprawling, magically-infused mansion, they pursue wealth, power, and immortality only for themselves. They also summarily exclude and exploit anyone outside of their immediate circle.

As the ritual begins to approach its climax, however, Tic begins to experience a vision of the heavily pregnant Hanna herself. Reaching out to her, he is finally able to wield the as-yet-unknown concentration of magical power within himself to turn all the members of the Order to dust, and begins collapsing the lodge around them. Following the vision of Hanna, he flees the crumbling edifice. Just as he makes his escape, she looks on in a silent, approving pride. “Whitey’s on the Moon” — and, indeed, Lovecraft Country more broadly — is a story of family, guided by a strong multi-generational current.

This second episode, particularly highlights the significance of Tic’s connection to his elders. Between Uncle George and Hanna herself, the thread of not just inherited trauma, but more importantly, inherited strength, wisdom, and love runs true. Furthermore, it ultimately saves his life, decimating a violently hateful and exploitative institution behind him.

All is not resolved though. Although Leti has been revived and healed, the protagonists’ urgent flight from the collapsing lodge has offered no such second chance to Uncle George, who succumbs to his injuries in the silently tearful, emotionally strangled arms of his brother. “Whitey’s on the Moon” asks as many questions as it answers, and only time will tell what will come next for Leti, Tic, and Montrose. This is especially true with the history of estrangement and the knowledge hanging over them that Tic may not be Montrose’s biological son. Until then, our newly-arranged trio of protagonists — and, indeed, the audience — must grieve and regroup.

While the pace of “Whitey’s on the Moon” may seem choppier to some, moving in jumps rather than steps; I think it works well that not everything is painstakingly spelled out. We don’t need to see every solitary beat of how our protagonists reach the realizations that they do. Their experience and constant work of survival comes hand in hand with (as previously stated) the near-constant need to closely observe their environs and the (white) people within them.

This grants our heroes a vantage point not often held by white horror protagonists. Unlike the safely, tidily privileged white protagonist, our trio are far from new to the idea that the villain has it out for them. They already know. As Uncle George himself points out, exploiting black bodies along with making them doubt their sanity and identity when they call attention to it is what the white people around them do. These ones just have magic to do it with.

On the note of magic and sanity, criticisms have also been leveled at “Whitey’s on the Moon” that it’s “not Lovecraftian enough.” I daresay these critiques are missing the point. The Order of the Dawn is not only a brilliant but also very likely a deliberate inversion of the cultist groups that appear time and again in Lovecraft’s own stories. Said cults are typically made up of “threatening Others” who are seemingly bent on summoning entities that will assure the destruction of “civilized society.”

Lovecraft Country turns this idea on its head to have the threat come from a secret society of white magicians. People who are obsessed with gatekeeping and exploitation, “sanctioned” by warped scripture to suit their selfish goals of securing eternal life for themselves. All at the expense of everyone else.

Equally clever, indeed, is the new snippet of lore we were given about the shoggoths this week. It suggests that they are not in fact creatures of inexplicable and mysterious origin, but were in fact being deliberately bred and trained by the Order’s members and surrounding locals of Ardham. It is an incisive subversion of Lovecraft’s depiction of such creatures as inaccessible, inconceivable, and completely indifferent to the lived experiences and suffering of humanity. In making this distinctive subversion, Lovecraft Country applies this definition instead to the fundamentally absurd and incomprehensible behavior of the magic-infused white supremacist.

Lovecraft claimed that creatures such as shoggoths were completely external to humanity. However, he created them as part of his own virulently racist legacy. So too do the residents of Ardham, and the Order themselves, create the shoggoths as guard dogs of their own violent and exploitative institution.

It’s also been said that this episode felt like a season finale — whether due to the literal crumbling of a violently oppressive institution, or due to this episode featuring our first character death — but I disagree. It maintains the striking and pervasive temporality of the story, and crumbling one solitary institution with eight more episodes to go hasn’t “fixed racism, hooray!” It speaks to the strength of the writing and acting that Uncle George’s death, and the reactions to it, moved me to tears over characters I’ve known for two episodes.

Most shows take so long to get me that intensely attached to a character that, indeed, it isn’t until a season finale that I care that much. This also says nothing of the fact that this criticism speaks to a misunderstanding, or perhaps simply a lack of awareness, of the book upon which Lovecraft Country is based. The book is made up of eight (individual, albeit interconnected) stories. If episode 2 felt like a season finale, it’s because it’s the first story’s conclusion, with seven more yet to go.

All in all, Lovecraft Country’s second episode continues to be engaging, confronting, alluring and complex, and highly, commendably competent. I can’t recommend tuning in highly enough. For those who want more content week-to-week, check out the Lovecraft Country Radio official podcast for more insight into each episode while you’re here. Until next time.

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Lovecraft Country

0.00

10

Score

10.0/10

Pros

• Powerful, compelling acting
• Evocative soundtrack
• Highly competent use of subversion
• Strong costuming and set design

Cons

• CGI is the tiniest bit clunky